Hands to Hold
by Noxid Anamchara
Summary: "Your father had beautiful handwriting." He hadn't expected that. His dad's writing was scratch. But he had to agree. There was a beauty to his dad's journal. That madness is what made it dad's and in every scratch and arrow and word was him. That journal had carried them this far, and that was beautiful. And now, Cas was reading it. And he kind of liked that.


** Noxi: **I was inspired by a gifset on Tumblr to write this little drabble. Cas is sitting on the bed, reading John's journal, and Dean is at the desk on the computer. Dean looks over his shoulder at Cas while he's flipping slowly through the pages. And then Cas stops, and closes the journal, and stares off solemnly as Dean gets up and sits on the bed opposite him.

It is episode 8.08 - **Hunteri Heroici**. And this is can be considered an AU (it doesn't follow the angel stuff) as I put my own spin on it. Pure Dean and Cas, pure angsty feels.

_Supernatural _belongs to CW and Kripke.

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Hands to Hold

Cas had been reading his dad's journal for some time. Flipping back and forth between pages, pausing on some, skipping passed others. He wondered which ones made Cas pause and which ones made him move on. _He_ had read that thing a thousand times over, memorized it from cover to cover, so he knew exactly what Cas was reading, in what order.

Made him nervous at first, to watch Cas gingerly inspect each page as though he had found the holy grail or something.

"Your father had beautiful handwriting."

He looked up from the computer, surprised, glancing over his shoulder to see Cas still flipping through the pages gingerly. He hadn't expected that. His dad's writing was scratch. Scrawl from his days spent with the Marines. The mad scrabble of someone with too much in their head. To him it was like his dad never had enough time to really sit and compile the pages like they should have been. Instead he'd put in bits and pieces of what each thing was here and there as he discovered it.

But he had to agree. There was a beauty to his dad's journal. That madness is what made it _dad's_ and in every scratch and arrow and word was him. That journal had carried them this far, and that was beautiful.

And now Cas was reading it. And he kind of liked that. Cas and his dad sort of meeting.

He cleared his throat noisily. "Just the scratches of an old hunter," he responded.

He heard the pages crinkle and the book snap shut behind him softly. He turned to find Cas sitting quietly on the bed, leg tucked beneath him, staring off.

In fact, he looked like somebody had kicked his puppy.

"Something up Cas?"

"I'm fine," he said absently, a little too quick, barely looking up at him.

"Is this about Purgatory?" He stood up and walked around the bed, sitting down, facing Cas.

Dean leaned forward, elbows on his knees and sighed heavily, rubbing at his face. "You know I…I tried, man. I tried to save you." The guilt swarmed over him, eating at him. He could remember it like it was yesterday - the feel of Cas's hand slipping through his as he went through that portal without him. He could still feel that part of his heart, shattering, and the pieces trailing behind him, left in the wake of the face of the one he'd failed to save.

"I _wanted_ to," he whispered.

"I know," Cas said, fingers twitching against the leather bound book. He looked conflicted, the trenchcoat suddenly too big on him. But he didn't move.

"It's…" Dean looked up, waiting.

"It's my own Father." Cas turned to him, a solemn look on his face. Dean's hands itched with the urge to reach out, but he waited for Cas to continue.

"Your father went to Hell for you. He suffered a hundred years of torture for you." He sighed exasperatedly, rubbing at his face.

"But my own?" Cas looked down at the journal in his hands and Dean realized where this was going, felt his chest tighten at the look on Cas's face.

"No matter what you had done, what you would have done, your father would have traded his soul for you every time Dean." Cas looked up, and he watched as his lip trembled for a moment before he caught it.

"Every single time. He knew what Sam was going to become and he would have done the same for him. And I, I serve my Father faithfully, dutifully, for all time. And I make one mistake," he wavered off, blue eyes shining, tearing his eyes from Dean's.

"I'm just a soldier, for him to command," he whispered softly. "My essence is but one of millions to him."

Dean knew what it was like to doubt your dad. He'd done that. And he'd doubted himself, countless times. All because his old man had thought he was making him a better hunter. All because he'd done _one_ thing wrong. He'd forgot to lock the front door. He'd left Sammy alone. He'd forgotten to bring a knife. He didn't remind dad to bring the holy water. So many mistakes, all of them his. How many times had he kicked himself when he was down?

How many times had he wanted to just give up and run away?

How many times had that turned into wanting to just _give up_?

"Heaven is gone because of me. Heaven is…" he sighed. "What I made it now. There's no question as to why my Father left me in Purgatory."

Dean reached forward then, quick, and grabbed Cas's wrist tightly. He could feel Cas's pulse beneath his fingertips, light and easy despite what he was talking about.

Cas looked down, surprised and then up into Dean's eyes.

"No," he said forcefully. "_No_. Dad's don't get to do that. That's not an excuse. He should have come for you. You don't just leave your kid in the closet because he did something wrong. That's what makes'em scared of the dark and small spaces. That's why they fear them instead of lovin'em. That's why our dad's don't know the difference," he murmured. Dean shifted forward, never letting go of his wrist.

"You didn't deserve that," he whispered, leaning as close as he could without getting off the bed. "I should have done everything I could to get you out of there."

Cas held his gaze intently, the blue bright. Dean felt like Cas was staring into his very soul, though it wouldn't have been the first time. And then his head lowered and his arm twisted in his.

Until his hand slid, so slowly along his and their palms lay flat against each other. There was a moment of hesitation between them both, Cas waiting for Dean to pull away.

Dean deciding whether this was really it.

"But you're here now," Cas said, so softly, so sweetly. Like it was all he'd ever needed.

Dean watched as the smallest smile lifted Cas's lips.

And he said to hell with it and closed his hand around Cas's.

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**A/N**: I hope you enjoyed.


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